The gas station was not a large stop, with four pumps and a modest two-storey building attached. The exterior walls of the building were a freshly-painted white, and black metal grills protected dusty windows. From a distance, a small group of people in varying dress and distress huddled together to watch. Sophie Conrad wished she could compel them further away.
Yet, it was not the unfortunate victims or bystanders who captured her attention as she exhaled:
“Oh, no.”
The actions of Jason West and Nace Bilby notwithstanding, Julie Justice had exited the first SUV to eventually join Nace up on his higher perch.
Turning to Chase Devineaux, the fledgling doctor found him performing a similar assessment of the situation, his eyebrows knitted and his grip still firm around his communicator. She made a motion to ask, but he spoke first.
“Jason. Nace.”
The address broadcast through the device was crisp.
“I’m seeing some movement. Can you confirm from your positions any visuals?”
There was a pause, but before any response registered, the back-door swung open and three figures strode out with semi-automatic weapons in hand. Movement from the front lot must have decided their course of action. The foremost figure turned to aim his rifle at the SUV parked nearby. He was speaking--shouting--but Sophie could not make out what he meant.
Reflexes jolted and Chase instinctually grabbed ahold of the wheel, dropping his communicator into the centre console. Almost simultaneously, he hit the gear and stepped on the pedal. The vehicle lurched into reverse. Opaque clouds of dust filled the air as rubber tyres hit unpaved road to grate against jagged gravel. Gears changed, but the trio of gunman moved onto the road and the SUV stopped just as two men took up positions on the asphalt while one approached the driver’s side with his gun drawn. Breathlessly, Sophie darted a glance at Chase.
“Lee,” the name was sharp from behind gritted teeth, and a look conveyed the urgency of obedience,
“get down onto the floor and don’t move. Cover your head.”
While her attention was on the cadet, Chase reached out to touch her arm a second time.
“Slowly move your seat back and duck under the dashboard,” his words were quiet, succinct. Somehow, she recognised the darkening in his grey stare.
With nothing more than a determined narrowing of her eyes, Sophie nodded once. She complied without ado, her hands slipping under the glove compartment to detach a Glock 19 and disengage its safety lever, even as she curled her legs beneath her.
All that happened after was a blur of motion and adept physicality as Chase pushed open his door, slamming it into the approaching gunman. From her lowered position, Sophie twisted to aim the barrel of the Glock at the assailant--and pulled the slide.
The Lead Instructor switched places with his masked opponent. He ducked an attack, and slipped. For a moment, the concealed redhead inhaled a keen breath as he disappeared from her view. Then, she saw his hand connect with the wrist of their antagonist.
The vehicle’s heavy door acted as shield and weapon as Chase recovered. Swiftly and without recourse, he wedged his adversary’s gun-wielding arm between vehicle and door until the weapon was released. As soon as it fell away, Sophie slipped onto the driver’s seat to sweep it aside. From the corner of her vision field, she saw a quick movement… and the once-gunman fell to the ground, unconscious.
Seizing the communicator from the centre console, she opened a channel--but paused for a breath before speaking, looking at Chase to ensure that he was all right:
“We have one hostile down. There are two more running eastward on 2nd Street.”
Without releasing the communicator, she snapped the safety lever of the Glock in hand back into position.
“I repeat,” calmer, this time, slower,
“there are two suspects running eastward on 2nd Street. They are armed.”
[fieldset=Co-written With:][with]1[/with][/fieldset]
